


And Then The Stars Came Tumbling Down

by OneBlueNotebook



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Fairy Tale Elements, Fantasy AU, Friendship, Gen, High Fantasy, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kingdoms and Princes, M/M, Other Characters and Tags to be applied as applicable, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:25:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneBlueNotebook/pseuds/OneBlueNotebook
Summary: It was said that the Prince was as beautiful and breathtaking as the rarest of jades from the Eastern Empires and as cold and deadly as the frozen glaciers up North.Some said, that the Prince valued no one, spared no one, and loved no one but himself.Yet, none saw his bleeding heart and his wounded spirit behind the glittering jewels, the silken robes and the golden Circlet which sat heavy atop his head.The Prince was a rare creature to be envied and talked about, but not to be understood or loved.Then came a boy, from a faraway land, with warm laughter, kind eyes, and a soul that shone brighter than the sun.And the Prince had to make the hardest choice he had ever faced : to love and be destroyed, or to let go and raze the world to cinders with the demon that was buried inside him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was born out of endless tumblr ramblings with my friend V, and thanks to her awesome memes that inspired a Banana Fish High Fantasy AU. I've always wanted to write one, and hopefully will be able to create this story just as I have visualised in my mind.  
> After the rollercoaster that was ep 24, I felt that a change was in order. And so, here I am.
> 
> This story is going to be multichapter, but I honestly don't know how long yet. Warnings and tags will be added as and when they come up.
> 
> Enjoy!

                                                                                     

 

 

It was said that the kingdom of Corsica never fell asleep.

There was always a light on, a voice talking, someone pacing the streets, horses restless under their master’s reigns. There was always dust kicked up, rye fields swaying in the lonely breeze under the moonlight, a little brook gurgling away under a mountain rock. There was always movement : quickly averted glances, hearts beating in foreboding under heavy robes, children being hustled inside by anxious mothers after nightfall.

There was also the jingle of money being laid down under stealthy backdoor lamps, the swishes of tightly laced up silken robes heard in dark corridors, the faint cries of the captives rising up from the depths of underground holders, the fast cracks of whip coming from within the Palace walls in the capital,  and the ever present stain of gunpowder on hands of burly men who seemed to pass endlessly in and out of the massive, barred gates of the City.

 

For hundreds of years, Corsican people had toiled day and night under a strict, unforgiving Crown, travelled far and wide in trade, lived with and loved their fellow denizens, and had built a kingdom worthy of mighty kings and grand legacies. Corsicans were a people who were toughened up, weather beaten, and worldly wise. Time had worn their spirits down, the Crown, over centuries, had done even more so. It wasn't that they were poor or badly off, it was the opposite for most. But something, somewhere, seemed to keep the souls of the people captive under an invisible leash. They woke up each day, only to live for the next nightfall, doing their mundane chores and leading their ordinary lives as was expected of them. 

But this could all change if you were ambitious enough, cunning enough. If you had the drive and the necessary skills, to break out of your uneventful life, then you were in luck. The Crown valued people with talent, the ruling Golzine dynasty especially so. They never turned anyone down who went to them seeking help. 

Provided, you were prepared to barter your spirit as a price.

 

This is the story of one such boy, whose soul had been held captive against his will, all his life. This is the story of Corsica’s Prince. 

And the young man who finally freed it, in exchange for his own. 


	2. Chapter 2

                                                                        

 

The Prince’s bedchamber was shrouded in darkness in the early hours of dawn. There was the twittering of birds outside in the gardens, the soft rushing of the fountains beyond his quarters, and the faint sounds of the Palace waking up : human voices, shouts and hollers, clangs of metal, wooden wheels dragging on earth, horses neighing in the distance, all mixed in a pleasant medley and roused the sleeping Prince.

He groaned and opened his eyes blearily. His body ached and stung at places, and an unwelcome smell lingered on in the air, like a foul, rotting memory that wouldn’t go away.  Last night had been _harsh_ , something quite out of place from the usual, and the Prince struggled to jostle his memories in order, already actively engaged in burying them deep under the depths of his mind, a place he had carefully constructed within himself, shackled and locked securely, from which nothing escaped, nothing leached out, and nothing crept out anytime, to put him at a disadvantage. It was a place filled with nightmares, but the Prince had learned to keep it secured, so that no shadow of it fell upon his face, no tendrils of those memories crept up to choke him at unguarded moments, and so that no one he met could could see those demons coloring his gaze.

He did a mental estimate and realised he had about a little more than three hours before he needed to start on his morning routine. Today was a Court Day and he would be required to be present, along with the King.

A derisive smile curled his lips at the thought. _King, indeed._

 

The thick silken sheets rustled as he moved out, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught dark stains littering the twisted, dirty, ivory expanse of it. At places, the red was still wet. He inspected the marks with a blank face. They would have shocked him maybe a decade ago. But by now, he had learned to let them pass as just another minor incident. Something to be ignored, for the sake of survival. But never to be forgotten.

When the time came, he’d need these memories to fuel the demon he was slowly nursing within him. On that day, he’d make sure to unleash it and feed it with the thousands of moments like this : of _pain_ and _death_ and anger, oh _so much anger,_ that had nestled within his heart over the years. That day, he’d make sure the demon charred everything it found on its path, and finally let him rest, for good.

But that day was not today.

 

There was a knock at the door and a voice floated in, “Your Highness, are you awake? It’s time to get ready.”

_Alex._

The Prince relaxed a fraction at the familiar, soothing voice. Alex was his valet, his companion, and friend, all packed in one. They went back a long way, from being childhood friends to this, and in this Palace, Alex was one among the handful whom the Prince could trust with his life. He had offered to relieve Alex of his personal steward duties when he had promoted him to be the head of the Prince’s Guard, but Alex had stubbornly refused to let the Prince be looked after by anyone else. He was silly and doggedly loyal that way, and even if he didn't say it aloud that time, the Prince would have never wanted it to be any other way.

“Yeah, I’m up. Come in.”

Alex poked his head in and his eyes narrowed immediately as he took in his ragged appearance within seconds. He suppressed the sudden urge to curl up and not let Alex see his scars, because he always got so mad over it, but he knew it would be pointless. They had long since seen each other at their worst, and a few more scars or bloodstains wouldn’t really make a difference.

Alex approached him steadily, his eyes shuttered off and stormy.

“Come on. The bath is ready.”

 

There was silence as Alex slowly maneuvered him towards the rooms beyond, and the Prince hated that he had to lean a little on him for support. His whole torso and limbs were still feeling numb and woolly.

“Not much of a Prince right now, am I, Alex?” he tried to joke as he sneaked a sideways  glance at Alex, but was met with a stony silence. Alex was _really_ mad this time.

The bath water was warm and just right, and the herbal fragrances of the oils soothed his senses as Alex poured pitchers of water over his body, washing away the blood, the grime and dried, stale sweat lingering on him. His skin was rubbed raw and scrapped in places and they stung painfully as Alex wordlessly rubbed healing salves over them : on his wrists, his neck, and back.

“You know, I could still poison him, if you _just_ gave the order,” he said, voice clipped, with a  barely suppressed rage roiling underneath. “You see, I’m very friendly with the chef.”

His insides warmed at the unconditional support that radiated from his friend. But he didn’t say it out loud, about how grateful he was for all of it, year after year. He suspected Alex already knew it.

“And then what? Get yourself and your whole family killed when you get caught? You know he has this whole place infested with his pesky rats all the time,” he looked back at Alex over his shoulders. “The last thing I’d want right now is to give him the chance to hold more of my men behind the bars. We can’t afford that, Alex. You know it more than I.”

Alex moved abruptly and dropped to his knees beside the marble bath, facing him. His eyes were pained as he held up one of his hands in his own, the angry red welts on his pale wrists stood out in stark contrast.

“But how long is this going to continue?” his gaze dropped down to the scars and back up. “Chief, he’s wasting you away, body and mind….and I just….I can’t stand by and watch this happen day after day…..”  his voice quivered at the end as he looked away hastily.

 _Chief_ …..the childhood nickname struck the Prince’s ears sharply. His mind wandered away against his will, to the memory of a windy seaside town, a group of little boys playing on the beach : him, Alex and the Wong kid, Shorter, who had moved in from the neighboring County recently. “Chief!”, they called out to him, a make believe game they had conjured up on the spot, and unanimously nominated him as their leader. “Chief!” as they laughed and ran along the waves, colorful flags in hand, the pretend Clan going to invade the pretend enemy and have their victory battle over the ancient, abandoned lighthouse, which was their glorious castle.

“Chief, you hear me?” Alex’s voice brought him back to the present, and his daydream faded away. Things were different now.

He pulled away his hands from Alex’s grasp gently, and gripped his shoulder instead. Alex’s eyes were trying to plead with him, concerned and pained. _This was what he was fighting for,_ the Prince reminded himself. These friendships, these memories, and all the other Princes like him out there.

“Yes, Alex. I know, believe me. But we need more time, you know that. This is something that just can’t happen over a day. We’re not strong enough right now. But trust me when I say this, I’m going to make him pay. For everything that he’s done.”

Alex nodded tersely and finished grooming him.

 

They never talked about that morning afterwards.

 

 

~~ / ~~

 

A/N : As always, any comments or feedback gives me life and are huge motivations to write. I'm kind of nervous about this fic because this is my first big, standalone one in an AU. So....yeah...thank you for reading, and drop a word if you'd like! ~


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